


House of Petals and Thorns

by beautifullyheeled



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Aristocracy, M/M, Not non-con, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Sherlock, Protective John, Sexual Slavery, Worldbuilding, casefic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 04:12:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1843945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifullyheeled/pseuds/beautifullyheeled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John becomes embroiled in intrigues as he learns to maneuver through a society he'd been elevated to while trying to keep his heart still in one piece. Sherlock is not who he seems and has found himself falling for the man he shares a bed with. With the tides rising, they both hope not to drown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	House of Petals and Thorns

John sat among them, new to this particular set of clubs, this world he had been brought into, where only those of wealth and stature could ever hope to search out the delights within. His recent elevation, a long lost title that his family was owed, now being brought to use. A posh home, people to tend to his whims, and the clinic he had always wanted. He could afford it all, and had won the hearts of the gentry quickly with his warm smile and civic duty, something his father and mother had instilled upon from a young age. His military service had especially worked in his favour, the ladies and gentlemen that moved within these circles were charmed by it. He had saved so many, and himself had almost lost his life for Queen and Country. It was a perfect storybook tale, the kind for which they salivated.

The domed ceiling was made of pristine glass, allowing the full light of the mid-day sun to illuminate the soft, pastoral murals cloaking the walls. Forested glens, complete with gently-painted falls and satyrs and nymphs in full, delightful play. Between each scene, jeweled toned curtaining made up of heavily-wrought fabrics lined the outer edges of the spacious gallery. Both were welcoming and yet spoke of the wealth of the clientele. John followed the manservant as the polished floor sunk a level to turn into a large, ringed series of alcoves, each with it’s own whimsical theme, that were honeycombed together, their backs to the gallery.

He was reclining on a roman style couch that was covered in the softest silk he had ever felt, dyed a rich peacock blue with full gilt and emerald buttons to call attention to the tufting. Posh. Decadent.  He’d been shown to his alcove, then seated himself; the manservant handing John a tumbler of his favourite scotch in the process. A prime spot, still tucked away amidst large ferns and tall greenery. The pearlescent quality of the dim lighting and fabric covering were not lost on him either. An alcove of pure seduction, for him and whomever he chose to spend this evening with.

The bells rang clear and melodic through the large open area just off from where he had been escorted. John remained relaxed, yet alert, as a sensual parade of bodies came gliding out from doors that seemed to appear out of nowhere, clever muraling having hidden them. It made John wonder what other secrets this place could hold. Each body shimmered, some covered in glitter, others just a bare dusting of iridescent colour that the light played well with.  Some had gems and other feathers within their hair; some even had jeweled chains to compliment delicate wrists, waists, ankles. Others even wore kuchi, bejeweled strands that ran from nose to ear, adding exoticism of far off shores to their bodies.

One tall, lithe, creature pulled apart as they dispersed, and came directly towards John. <i>He</i> was ethereal. Dusted gold, the play of warmth on the alabaster skin recalled long-ago memories of Roman temples where men worshipped one another. The effect of sapphires among the dark, shimmering curls called attention to the pale blue of his irises, an other-worldly colour that John had never seen before. His pubic hair was styled and dusted heavily with a fine golden glitter to display a breathtaking cock that curved gracefully to the right. Even relaxed, it was a proud specimen. Something that belonged in marble halls, to be coveted by sight only, but tonight this fantasy was to be his.

John stood, his drink forgotten on a small round table, and offered his hand to the silent beauty. Ever conscientious, he pulled a luxuriously soft coverlet from the pillows on the floor and draped it over the wide backless couch. “Let me see you, love.”

A ghost of a smile crossed the man’s lips as he knelt on the couch then slowly got on all fours, canting his hips up and his shoulders low into a languorous prone stretch. He widened his knees, allowing full view from perineum to heavy testicles and thickening cock. All waxed, from coccyx to the hint of the shimmery thatch he knew was there. Bare of glitter, but glistening.

John ran an appreciative hand along the firm buttocks, his thumb grazing the tightly furled anus.

“You are beautiful. You know that, though, don’t you?” John spoke softly to him, as the man beneath his hand moaned at the increasing pressure of the pad of his thumb. “Here to serve, because you choose to do so, I hope. Nod once if true.”

He saw the glittered nod and smiled broadly, pressing inside just enough to tease. No friction, just the thickness of his thumb and the slight internal movement from the first knuckle. It was about pleasure, yes, but also about owning and being owned in turn. If only for a night. John finally moved, the push and pull sweet against his skin, the muscle holding taut. Greedy. He removed his thumb, a further cant and softly pillowed moan coming from his lover? His concubine? John shook his head to clear it as he removed his jacket, then unbuttoned his shirt sleeves, rolling them to the elbow.

The noble hummed to himself, undoing the bottom two buttons of his waistcoat before dipping a knee beside the long nude expanse that waited for him, and licked a hot stripe between the parted cheeks, tasting mineral oil and sage and black cardamom. Infused then. His tongue laved from perineum to just above his anus, then back again to press on the wanting knot of muscle, breaching it after a few heated swipes. God, he was tight. Barely proven, it would seem, belied only by the way he relaxed against the intrusion. John spread him open, biting a buttock as his blunt fingers found thin hips.

“So gorgeous. That’s it, love. Open to me,” John huffed in their cloistered space.

Only the quieted grunts and huffs of pleasure were heard in response.

The House had taught the willowy man well, completely clean and ready for any desire John might have. He was beyond compare, rocking desperately in minute motions. Not enough to force John to resettle them, but lost to the beginnings of the low pool of desire as he licked him open, sucking gently at the easing rim. His fingers found their way, running along to tug at the testicles that had yet to receive attention. The cock thickening, the length being brushed by his callused knuckles.

“Here... so good.” A finger finding its way back in, then two,  John reached into his pocket to pull out a silver metal plug. Easing the sterile wrapping away, he replaced his fingers with the plug before easing the trembling man on his back. He had to see that face. “I know it’s cool now, but it will warm.”

The man reached for him then, pulling him down and kissed him hard. His body writhed under John as the nimble fingers of the pleasure slave unbuttoned the waistcoat, then went immediately for the leather belt that held John’s rapier. Once whipped out, it clattered onto the floor, forgotten.  As catches were opened, it exposed John to those long fingers that now held him securely. The gasps and moans were sacred to John, chased over and over again. Finally nude himself, he pressed his body tight against the one beneath him. His hand finding the small, smooth ring at the flat of the plug, he jostled it gingerly as his mouth roamed taut, gold dusted nipples before moving further down the magnificent body.

His mouth found the proud cock fully engorged and weeping steadily as he swallowed down what he could, tasting sweet notes above the neutral tannic of preejaculate. He continued to hum softly to them both, knowing the vibration of sound to be pleasant. John wanted to please this man, this starfallen god come from the heavens. Wanted him to cry out his name in ecstasy.

“My name is John,” he said as he marked the ivory thigh with his teeth. “Or you may call me Captain.”

He dipped the tip of his tongue along the retracted foreskin, sipping it between his lips before swallowing once more, the feel of the thickened cock heavy against his palate. John pulled off again and pulled a testicle into his mouth suckling on one, then the other as he continued to tug on the plug. “I want to hear you call one or the other... I want to hear your voice.” Reaching down, John drew out a single use of the lube the House had provided and slicked himself quickly. “Let me, love.”

John removed the plug, desperate for contact. His cock just kissed at the softened entrance and settled, barely enough pressure to remind the muscle to yield, his fingers gently pulling at the glittering curls. The almost colourless eyes were darkened by pupils dilated with lust and honest need. The submissive mask gone, desire had rendered the man, for all of his careful ornamentation, somehow more a lover than a slave. John tenderly kissed him as he thrust himself deep within, settling himself just shy of the hilt of himself. Almost perfectly joined, he rolled his hips and maneuvered them, one long leg finding purchase over his good shoulder, the other wrapped swiftly at the small of his back.

“Sherlock,” the man moaned deeply. “Oh, God, please... do not stop.”

“Sherlock,” John whispered, then kissed him again, smoothly thrusting. The noble picked up a cylindrical pillow and shoved it under the narrow hips for support; pulling most of the way out before he pressed back in desperately slow. The angle was hard as he searched for the prostate, and he knew that he had to be patient. A few more heady pushes inside the heated core, then Sherlock jolted sharply calling out.

“John, oh! Johnjohnjohn...” His name was a litany spilled from the lips of an angel. He set himself to pleasurably torture Sherlock, keeping his pace just so, slowly building pleasure for them both. Sherlock’s own cock was yet to be touched, the thin stream of precome rapidly became a small silvery pool that glistened. John dipped his palm through it and firmly grasped the long cock, stroking slowly, unable to keep the smile from his face as the taut body beneath him undulated.

“There, I have you,” he caught himself murmuring. “So perfect,” John praised, fucking him harder now as he abandoned his need for caution, sweet words uttered to soothe the relentless pace.  He felt his testicles draw tight against slicked skin. So responsive, Sherlock panted, gripping at his hair, then at John.

“John!” The ebony-curled man cried out as John pressed the angle further, his intention clear. “Captain! Please, allow me...”

His voice broke as he pleaded for release, the breathless appeal from a desperate man John could not deny. He twisted his wrist on the next stroke, only the lightest of pressure, before thrusting in. Sherlock came undone, keening a clear, bright exclamation, before his body became docile and filled with susurrus rasps. John pulled quickly from him, striping his sweat-sheened chest with his own ejaculate, as Sherlock’s name tumbling over and over from his lips. At last, he fell upon him bodily, stealing small sacred kisses over the carved cheekbones and temple.

“Sir-” Sherlock attempted to speak, but John hushed him gently.

“Rest, love. You do not have to leave so soon.” He laid his ear to Sherlock’s chest listening to the high, but steady, beat. His shirt and waistcoat would be ruined, but having this supple man in his arms would be worth so much more. “Take a small respite with me after we are clean.”

Sherlock tipped the noble’s chin to look up into his face, his lower lip slipped from his teeth. “No, sir-” He hesitated and then continued. “John, you are not safe here. This is no chance meeting.”

He stared, taken aback at the blatant use of his name by someone of lesser station, outside of the throws of passion. His ears had not deceived him, the warning was clear, as was the change that came over the man beneath him. Who was he then? Certainly an assassin would not warn you before your dispatching. John sat up and began calmly cleaning himself, then continued on to Sherlock to seem as if he was being a conscientious lover.  

“Sherlock, if that is your name, you do not need to be told what happens to one of your station who threatens one one of my stature.” It was in whispered tones, soothing if one were to overhear only the quality. The content though, edged with steely sharpness. “Do not play these intrigues with me, for you will find yourself on the losing side.”

“There are others.” Those aqua blue eyes, now alert, flitted along the honeycomb and above. “You must believe me. Let me dress you, as we are able and then, after we fetch your new set of clothing from the manservant, I will explain as we re-attire ourselves.”

“You’re... getting dressed then?” John blinked at the idea of the man leaving in the light of day.

“To escort you, yes. Unless you wish me to ride in your coach as I am?” A dark eyebrow raised as a small smirk crossed his face. “If you wish it so, sir-”

“No, no. Dressed, yes. That will be just fine. Then we will get to the bottom of your claims once we are both at my manor. I’ll send ahead for Constable Lestrade to meet us at his earliest convenience.”

“Good, send him my regards and he will hurry his pace.” The twinkle in his eyes was brilliant as Sherlock spoke. “I’m sure you have questions, but let us get dressed first.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to all the SHJW*Writers Circle for helping beta this! 
> 
> If you enjoy this, let me know, as I am seriously considering this as being not just a one off. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
